


Slight of Hand

by Anonymous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Jossed, M/M, Nonnies Made Me Do It, PWP, bad men doing bad things to stiles, blowjob, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 01:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1410628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to retrieve some things from his father's office, Stiles needs to set up a distraction for Agent McCall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slight of Hand

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this between 3A and 3B, I think; literally all the info we had was that Scott's dad was in Beacon Hills to try and get Sheriff Stilinski out of a job. Thus, please do not look too hard at the plot or the timeline.

It was one of the worst ideas Stiles had ever had, and he was counting that time he decided to go dig up a body and got Scott turned into a werewolf. 

Maybe if they had more time to sneak into his dad's office before Mr. McCall searched it, he would've been able to come up with something better, but he hadn't. Derek had listened in on the conversation inside the station and realized they had five minutes or so to distract the asshole before he rifled through the Sheriff's desk drawers and uncovered something very incriminating. _Obstruction of justice, ignoring evidence in an ongoing murder investigation_ -levels of incriminating if you didn't know about werewolves.

"H-hey, Mr. McCall," Stiles said as he breezed into the station. "I'm here to see my dad."

Perrish looked like he was going to allow Stiles into the back without any further objection, but McCall stepped in his way. "You know we can't do that. He's in holding, pending a murder investigation."

Stiles swallowed down the rage that came roaring to the front the same way it did every time he thought about his father sitting in his own holding cells. He jammed his clenched fists in his pockets and looked up at Mr. McCall through his eyelashes. Scott's dad had always hated him, but since he came back to find Stiles grown up there had also been something else between them. He gentled his voice and tried to sound as pathetic as possible: "You know he didn't do it, c'mon."

"Stiles..." McCall glanced back at Parrish, who was watching the conversation with undisguised interest. "Why don't we step into the office and talk?"

Stiles tried not to panic. He needed McCall away from his dad's office for Derek to sort through it, but he had no logical reason for asking to talk elsewhere. Maybe once things got started he could plead for them to take it to the bathroom or one of the interrogation rooms? He followed McCall down the familiar hallway to the office where Stiles spent half his adolescence. 

McCall door closed with a final-sounding click and offered Stiles what he guessed was meant to be a comforting smile. It made him look like a shark. Stiles squirmed a little as he sat down, and he wasn't sure if it was acting.

Instead of taking his father's chair, McCall picked the other visitor's chair, closer to Stiles. It also made things less weird when he didn't occupy the space that Stiles considered to belong to his father; maybe that was why he did it. 

"How are you doing?" The question surprised Stiles, though maybe it shouldn't. McCall always liked to pretend he was the good guy, even when he was three sheets to the wind and yelling at Scott. "Are you staying with Melissa while your dad's away?"

"I turned seventeen two weeks ago," Stiles answered. "I'm not a kid, and my dad won't be away that long, anyway."

Silence stretched. McCall tried to meet his eyes, but Stiles stared at his shoes instead. 

"Stiles..." A big hand landed on Stiles' knee and he tried not to jump. He inhaled a loud breath instead; that could sound like anything at all. "You really don't think he did this? Even with his history of being unstable?"

"I know he didn't. He's not even capable of it." 

The hand came up a few inches, closer to the fold of Stiles' hip than his knee now. The warm weight of it might have weighed a thousand pounds. He squirmed again, unsure if he should try to get it away or invite it closer. "We never expect the people closest to us to be the bad guys, Stiles."

McCall's fingers brushed Stiles' inseam. He looked up, meeting McCall's eyes. "Yeah. We never do."

McCall either missed the irony or ignored it; either way, he took the opportunity to bracket Stiles' face with both his hands and study it intently. Stiles tried to look as open and innocent as he could, but he sucked at playing innocent. Still, licking his lips like a girl in a movie seemed to do the trick. McCall breathed out like someone had kicked him and Stiles took the invitation to lean in and suck the rest of the air from his lungs.

When they broke apart, Stiles expected McCall to protest. He was suprrised, then, when McCall said: "Let me take care of you."

"Take care-?" Stiles' question was cut off when McCall kissed him and dragged him up, pushing both of their bodies together. Stiles felt an erection McCall's cheap suit pants and his own jeans.  
Somehow they wound up with Stiles pressed into a supply cabinet with the ancient plywood shelving digging into his back while McCall dropped to his knees in front of him. Stiles froze except for his eyes, which stretched wide on his face. "What are you-?"

McCall laughed at him even as he palmed Stiles' dick through his jeans. "I know you've watched enough porn to know where this is going. You've never been all that quiet about what you like.."

"I thought..." Stiles clamped his mouth shut and shrugged. Really better not to give the guy any ideas.

"When I fuck you, Stiles," McCall said, not bothering to look up, "it's going to be in a bedroom where I can have you comfortable and take our time. Your first time should be special."

Stiles sucked in a deep breath and jerked, banging his head against one of the shelves. It hurt like hell, but it made him look away from McCall long enough to focus on what was happening outside the tiny closet: Derek, werewolf-silent, slipping through the window.

"Fuck," Stiles said, with feeling. Derek stopped with one leg still out of the window, but McCall just smirked and shook his head. That reminded Stiles - if McCall turned his head at all, he would see Derek from his position halfway into the closet, and they'd be screwed. Figuratively.

In a panic, he clapped both his hands to the sides of McCall's head and forced him to look up at Stiles instead of anywhere else. "I want - I want that. Soon."

McCall made no attempt to free himself from Stiles' grasp as he worked open the button of Stiles' jeans with one hand and pulled the zipper down without looking. "Sure. You've got a big, empty house right now. I'm sure there's a bed big enough for both of us somewhere."

His parents' bed. Stiles' imagination flashed to McCall there, on top of him, inside of him, and it made his stomach roll. He couldn't tell if it was revulsion or lust and he didn't care when McCall's hands rested on either side of his shaky hips. They burned hot strips where they pushed his skinny jeans and underwear down in one smooth motion; he hadn't known that your hips could be an erogenous zone until the ordinary touch nearly buckled his knees.  
"Hmm?" Stiles jerked. McCall wanted an answer for his statement - and Stiles couldn't say no, not with Derek rifling through the Sheriff's desk not ten feet away. He couldn't say no to anything. "-I'd like that. You seem like you, um, you really know what you're doing here."

Stiles hoped that sounded like a lie.

"I know better than you," McCall said. "Try to relax."

Stiles nodded but kept his hands where they were on either side of McCall's head. It made him feel grounded. If he could keep control over one little thing, he wouldn't feel like he was losing control of his entire body. Bad enough that his brain betrayed him constantly these days.

"I'm perfect -" McCall jerked his pants down, taking his underwear with it. They dragged on his dick, uncomfortable friction that lasted only a few seconds and then faded to a memory of a sting. "-ly relaxed. Oh my god."

"Stiles." McCall sounded disappointed, so Stiles forced himself to look down. He was - he wasn't hard, for the first time ever. Someone finally wanted to touch his dick and he couldn't even get it up. 

"Sorry. This, uh, doesn't usually happen to me?" 

"You're nervous. It's understandable." Stiles remembered the clipped tone in his voice, the way he'd hold back from yelling at Scott when Stiles was in the house. Scott would make Stiles stay for hours, just to hold off the storm of his father's anger. McCall's nails dug into Stiles' thighs, hard enough to hurt. Stiles thought maybe he'd ruined some kind of fantasy - he wasn't the desperate, eager virgin McCall wanted.

"I want you, though," Stiles said. Out in the office, Derek's head jerked up. "I always ... for a long time."

_That_ produced a reaction: McCall licked his lips and eased his hands off Stiles' hips, leaving halfmoon bruises behind them. They hovered over Stiles' groin, instead, and McCall looked at him like he was waiting for permission. Stiles didn't want to tell him to go for it, not with Derek right there and listening, but he worried with every passing second that he was losing McCall's interest. He steeled himself and said: "Help me relax?"

"All you had to do was ask." McCall broke eye contact, finally, and ducked his head. Stiles thought - from what he'd seen in porn, mostly, and half-remembered locker room bullshit - that McCall would just stick it in his mouth and get on with it. It surprised him when McCall kissed the inside of his thigh, first, and moved upward with a trail of them. Stiles' dick twitched with interest. 

He wondered if he had done the same to Melissa, back when they were married. Idly thinking of her was nothing new, but this felt more real: now that he'd seen what McCall looked like on his knees, Stiles could imagine what he looked like buried face-first in his ex-wife and it was wrong, but it worked for Stiles. 

"There." McCall sounded pleased that Stiles had managed to get half-hard without being touched. Stiles relaxed his grip on McCall's hair and closed his eyes again. He thought maybe it would be better not to see - he could think of someone else's mouth on him and look at himself in the mirror tomorrow morning.

He was wrong: with his eyes closed he couldn't see what McCall was doing or guess when the next touch was coming. Every touch of McCall's tongue on his dick came as a surprise that jolted Stiles out of his calm, until he was tense in anticipation every time.

"Relax, Stiles," McCall reminded him. "Is this really so bad?"

"No," Stiles whispered. "It's good. Y-you're good." 

"Then relax," he repeated. Stiles nodded and opened his eyes again, meeting McCall's eyes. They were too much like Scott's, Stiles couldn't hold the gaze and his erection at the same time. He looked away and grappled for an explanation. 

"I don't want to be bad at this." 

McCall laughed. "There's no way to be bad at this. Not when you look like you do." 

Stiles made the mistake of looking up instead of down and accidentally caught Derek's eye. He was standing there with the files in hand, clearly finished, but he hadn't left. Stiles looked frantically over at the window and back again, urging him to go, but lost all focus when McCall took the head of his dick into his mouth and started to really get going. 

McCall's hands were smaller than Stiles' own and their calluses different; they felt strange at the base of his dick when he latched on there. Stiles didn't care, though. He couldn't even care about Derek watching when he looked down and saw his cock disappearing into the mouth of a grown man over and over again.

"Holy -" Stiles whispered. He involuntarily closed his eyes again and tried to slow himself down so Derek could still have enough time to get out. When Stiles next looked, he was still frozen to the spot, but Stiles couldn't hold back any longer. He came without warning, and without letting McCall back away.

Derek was _still there_ , but Stiles' orgasm seemed to break the spell as it sent him scrambling toward the window. Unable to think of anything else, and desperate not to get caught after what he'd just done, Stiles yanked McCall up off the floor and kissed him.

The kiss was hot and disgusting all at once, filled with jizz passing between their mouths and too much of McCall's tongue, but it gave Derek enough time to slip out the window and away. Stiles could do no such thing.


End file.
